The Hole
by jessinamaca
Summary: During the war I thought to myself, it has to get easier. Yes, right now it hurts, it hurts like hell. But soon you're going to be able to think of him and not feel as if a giant hole has been torn in you. It gets easier. It has to.


He sat in the shadows and watched.

It wasn't difficult to go undetected. He was another person dressed in black; a random stranger mourning the loss of a well-known figure. No one noticed that he sat by himself, or that he didn't walk to see the casket. Nobody batted an eyelash when his was the only pair of dry eyes in the place. All attention was on the women who sat in the front, the women who gave the speech, the woman who was mourning the most.

She had lost everything.

It was raining. She considered it both appropriate and ironic. Appropriate, because the rain softened the ground, darkened the sky, and dirtied the roads, and that was how she felt inside. Softened, dark, and dirty. But it was also ironic, because he was the light of her world, her sole reason for existence. And now he was gone.

She truly had nothing left.

Sobs rolled out of her as she listened to the pastor speak. They were silent, only noticeable because her shoulders heaved and big tears escaped out of the corner of her eyes, cascading down her cheeks. It was a heartbreaking sight, especially to him. He would have given the world to her, would have sacrificed everything he had just to ensure that she never cried again. He tried to protect her once, and it had brought her nothing but pain.

He could barely live with himself anymore.

When the service had ended, the other guest filed out, paying their last respects and promising to bring by a dish. Finally, there was only the man, the woman, and the casket. She still had yet to notice his presence and he simply waited to ensure that she would be fine. He had no intention of talking to her; he did not want her to know who he was. But he would stick around to make sure she was protected and managed to make it home.

Minutes turned into hours, and it was dark before she moved. Then she spoke.

To him.

"What are you doing here, Draco?" She asked; her voice barely audible above the pouring rain.

"I came to pay my respects." She laughed. It was a sharp uneasy sound, as if she hadn't laughed in a long time and needed practice. She didn't move, didn't leave her seat. Her back remained rigid against her chair, her legs crossed elegantly.

"That's rich, coming from you." He didn't know how she knew it was him. There was a shock of electricity, lighting the sky and illuminating her. "You have a lot of nerve, showing up here."

"I have just as much right to be here as you do."

"Technically, I suppose. But you did nothing for him." The tears had turned to fury, and the distinction showed in her voice.

"How was I supposed to do something, Hermione, when I didn't know he existed?" She laughed again, but it was a crueler sound than before.

"You left me. And then you never came back. Never. How was I supposed to know you wouldn't do the same thing to our son?" The words were out there now. _Our son._ It was a foreign concept, a whole different atmosphere of feeling. He had created something wonderful and it had been taken away from him.

"Were you ever going to tell me?" Draco asked quietly. She shrugged her shoulders, the anger leaving and resignation settled in.

"Maybe." She paused. "No. Yes." Her head pounded as a roll of thunder crashed. "How did you find out?"

"Harry told me. He thought I deserved to know that my own child had died." Hermione felt as if he grabbed a knife and stuck it in her back, widening the hole she already had inside. Every part of her ached; with longing, with loss, with fear. It was all she could do not to fall apart right then and there. He watched her silently, yearning to do something; to hold her, to comfort her. But he knew that anything he did would be met by a cold silence and cruel hatred.

He deserved it, he supposed.

She didn't speak for a long time. They sat in silence while the rain poured down and lightning flashed periodically across the sky. The pain in her grew, the ache to touch him, just to feel that he was really there, sprouted into a need. As if he sensed it, as if he felt the same way, he stood up and walked slowly over to her. She looked up into his eyes, saw the sadness, the mirror of her feelings, and surrendered, collapsing.

Before she could hit the floor, he grabbed her up into his arms and cradled her to his chest. He was so broad, she folded neatly into his lap, gasping his shirt and she sobbed into his shoulder. For the second time that day, his heart broke. He stroked her damp hair and rocked her, trying to give her his warmth. For awhile, she simply cried, her tears unnoticeable on his already soaked shirt. But then she spoke.

"He was my entire world. My whole life." He wrapped his arms tightly around her, pulling her in closer. "What am I supposed to do without him? How can I go on?"

He didn't speak. Not because he didn't know what to say but because she didn't need to hear it. She knew what he would say, knew how he would act. Just how he knew how much she was breaking inside and that it would take weeks, maybe even months, to make things right for her. An overwhelming sense of guilt crushed down on him and he tried to pull her even closer to make it go away. She thought, as his arms closed around her tightly, that it seemed he was trying to absorb all her pain and sadness. He tried not to think so much about what had happened.

He had to concentrate on the future. Their future.

"Merlin," she sat up and wiped the tears away, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to go off on you like that. You probably don't understand." Again, he didn't speak. But he wanted to.

"Let's just get you home." He said instead. She nodded complacently. As he set her on her feet, he stood up, towering over her little frame. "Hermione." She looked tentatively at him. "Everything's going to be okay."

She smiled sadly. "I wish I could believe you."

She settled into the couch, a blanket wrapped around her cold, albeit dry, body. She shivered involuntarily, and he tossed another blanket in her direction. She stared at it and picked it up reluctantly, sliding it over her shoulders. He simply watched her. "Draco, really, you can leave now. I'll be fine."

"If you think that I am leaving you in this condition, you are more stupid that I thought you were."

"You never had a problem before." He wasn't supposed to hear it, but he did. She instantly regretted the words when she saw his grey eyes grow icy and blocked. She could tell he wanted to speak, wanted to say something back. He'd been pushing something back the entire time, almost speaking but never quite getting the words out.

But he surprised her. "Let's not forget, dear, who asked whom to leave." He stood up abruptly and stalked to the kitchen before she could retaliate. Thankfully, too, for she was rendered speechless. "Do you want some tea? Great. Me too."

Her mind was reeling from his last words. They echoed loudly in her head as she tried to shake them out. Then she got angry. Mind numbingly angry.

"Excuse me?" He didn't look at her, didn't even react when she nearly shouted at him.

"I'm pretty sure you heard me."

"You're choosing today, on the day of my son's funeral, to try and put the blame on me."

"Our son." He slammed the tea box down onto the table, causing her to jump slightly. "Merlin, Hermione, he was my son too. Do you think that even though I never met him that I don't feel anything?" She just stared at him as he ran his hands through his hair. "When Harry walked into my office, it changed my entire life around. He told me I had a son. A son, Hermione, the one thing in this world that I wanted almost as much as I wanted you. And I suddenly had one. It didn't matter to me that you kept it a secret. It hardly entered my mind that you were deceitful and had hid him away for such a long time. The only thing I could think was, I had a son." He paused, and looked at her, pain shinning through his eyes. "We had a son.

"And while I was still celebrating, that's when he told me what happened. And suddenly, in the space of a second, I lost everything. My heart broke into a thousand tiny pieces. I mourned, Hermione, mourned, for the son I never knew, for the son I would never get to know. Then, when the initial shock was over, all I could think about was, my God, Hermione must be devastated. Even then, I knew that word wasn't enough. There isn't a word, is there, to describe how you're feeling, how I'm feeling? There never will be." He tore his gaze away from her, and gazed out the window.

"During the war, when everybody was dying around me, I thought to myself, it has to get easier. The pain has to dull over time. There were times when it seemed that nothing would ever be right again. But it was. Soon, people picked up the broken pieces of their lives. Deaths were forgotten and lives were celebrated. It became easier to live, easier to remember but not feel pain. You have to believe me when I say that it will be alright. Yes, right now it hurts, it hurts like hell. But soon you're going to be able to think of him and not feel as if a giant hole has been torn in you. It gets easier. It has to."

He didn't leave. Every morning she woke up expecting him to have gone without so much as a note, but he was always there. The longer he stayed, the more frightened she became. Sooner or later, he was going to leave, and she didn't know if she could take that.

Hermione tried not to think about it. Instead, she focused on the present. He stayed with her, made sure she ate and slept and went to work. Life gradually became easier, just as he said it would. The pain was still fresh, but whenever he was around it dulled considerably. It finally came to the point where she could talk to Draco about him without crying. Much. So she told story after story. His first words, his first magic, everything. And Draco loved him more and more each day.

They were lying on the rug beside the fire, just listening to it crackle. They had stopped talking hours ago, but Hermione longed to speak, longed to ask him the question that had weighed heavily on her mind. She took a deep breath and jumped. "Draco?" He looked sleepily at her. "When are you leaving?" She bit her lip, terrified of the answer.

"Whenever you tell me too." It was a simple, logical answer. But it sent her mind reeling. She stared at him for awhile, noticing the similarities for the first time.

"He was so much like you." Draco looked suddenly at her, surprised. She shook her head. "Yeah. His hair was a silvery blonde. It was so bright sometimes, so much like yours, that it was hard to look at. He had your eyes, and your chin. Most of the time, he reminded me so much of you it almost hurt. He got my mouth, but sometimes he would smile just the way that you do, a hint of mischievousness shinning in his eyes. He was always smiling though." She grinned at the memory. "Always talking."

"Well, I know where he got that from." She laughed and threw her pillow at him. He grabbed it and added it to his pile.

"He got his smart mouth from you." Draco mock gasped.

"Pot meet kettle." She smiled brightly before ducking the pillow he hurled at her head, only to be hit by a surprise one.

"You're going to pay for that one." He held up his hands.

"Merlin, no, please, don't hurt me. At least, go easy on me." She grinned and he saw a familiar spark light in her eyes before she pounced on him, pinning him to the floor as she straddle his stomach.

"Got you." She smirked triumphantly. His face fell blank but his eyes heated up. They wiped the smirk right off her face. They stared, unable to blink or move or think. Then, Draco leaned up and crushed his mouth on hers.

She awoke, freezing and alone. The sheet had slid off her onto the floor and she shivered, trying to search for anything to cover her body.

Her naked, very satisfied body.

As soon as she was warm again, she stretched languidly and sighed happily. She hadn't felt this relaxed in weeks. Hermione turned over to say good morning to Draco and noticed for the first time that he wasn't there. Her heart broke instantly, to the point where pain seemed to enter her body and forced her to curl into a ball. Part of her mind reminded Hermione that she knew it was going to happen eventually, and naturally it would be after he had gotten the only thing men really want. But the other part of her brain remembered last night, their bodies sliding up against each other, heaving and sweaty. Remembered what he had whispered right before sending her off the edge,

_I love you._

It wouldn't have affected her so much if she had known it was a lie.

Hermione tried to pull herself together, willing the tears not to fall. She tried to think things out rationally. If she had survived the loss of her son, she could surely survive the loss of a man. But the evil side of her brain spoke again, pointing out that _he_ was the only reason she had survived. Only then did the tears come. She sobbed into her pillow, trying to make as little noise as possible.

"What's wrong?" She stopped crying instantly, looking up in disbelief. She saw him, through teary eyes, standing in her doorway with concern written all over his face. He moved to sit on the bed but she reached him first. She forgot everything else-the feeling of heartbreak, the utter hopelessness, and the fact she didn't have any clothes on. It didn't matter. She smashed into him, throwing her arms around his neck and burying her face into his chest.

"I thought you had left." She said, tears falling more freely now, but in happiness. He stroked her back reassuringly.

"Don't you remember me telling you that I wouldn't leave until you asked me too?" She nodded, her head still against his body. "Well, I hate to break it to you, but I don't think I'd leave even then. You're kind of stuck with me now." She laughed hesitantly. He pulled her face towards his and kissed her gently. As the pulled apart, she smiled gratefully up towards him.

For what seemed to be the first time, he noticed her current state of undress. The gentleness visibly left every inch of him as his eyes devoured her body. Hermione tried not to smile.

"Whoops. Can you leave for a second while I get dressed?" She asked innocently. Draco growled and picked her up forcibly, walking across the room and throwing her on the bed.

"I'm pretty sure I just told you I wasn't going to leave."

"Right answer." He smiled again and pounced on her.

Since that moment, they spent every night relearning each other, exploring their bodies. But as days turned into weeks, Hermione began to worry. Those three words Draco had whispered on their first night were beginning to seem like her own fantasy, a hope she conjured on her own. He never said them again, and she sure wasn't going to bring it up.

The thought of him leaving never again crossed her mind. He was there to stay, a point he reiterated frequently. All she had to do was ask him to leave, and there was no way in hell she would do that. So each day, they spent together, even for a few minutes at a time. And each day, the hole filled in, until Hermione barely even noticed its presence. Draco made things, life, better. He held her, kissed her, told her stories, and made he feel important.

She loved him.

It was difficult to come to grips with. After he left, she shut him out of her heart, willing herself never to even think fondly of him. Her son had been a constant reminder, both of the good and the bad. His soft hair had the exact same texture, his eyes burned with the same intensity. But he filled her life with joy, made it easier for Hermione to forget.

As the days went on, Hermione began to remember the bad; the fights, the avoiding, the final goodbye. While they hurt, they also seemed sort of like a distant dream she once had, not something that actually happened. But there was one thing that bugged her the most.

"Draco, when we first started to…" She couldn't find the right words. So she went with the truth. "When you came back, you kept repeating 'You asked me to leave'. I have no idea what you mean."

He quirked his head to one side and smiled slightly. "Do you remember?" She shook her head. "We were fighting about God knows what, and you pointed at the door, screaming 'Get out of this house, and don't ever come back.' So I packed up and left." She stared, shocked. He laughed nervously. "What?"

"You son of a bitch."

"What!"

"You took me seriously? I mean, we were fighting! I said the first thing that came to my mind. And you just gave in, complied with my crazy wish?"

"We fought all the time! What was I supposed to do, start another fight?"

"God, Draco, I was hormonal. I was pregnant for God's sake. I can't believe you just left. You just disappeared! I never saw you again. Do you even know what that did to me?"

"How was I supposed to know you were pregnant? I thought you were just tired of me. We were fighting constantly; you screamed endlessly, we never had sex anymore! What was I supposed to think?"

"You were supposed to know and trust that I love you! Damnit, Draco, how could you forget that?"

"You…love…me?" But before she could correct him, she fainted.

He was pacing. It was bad, he knew he shouldn't but he couldn't help it. Hermione had been in St. Mungo's for two hours, the healer had just gone in, and Draco had yet to hear anything. Suddenly, the healer exited her room, and Draco rushed towards him.

"She will see you now." Draco barely even acknowledged this comment before barging in. Hermione lay on the bed, smiling nervously as Draco rushed to her side.

"Is everything ok? Are you sick? Oh god, you're going to die. Hermione, you can't-" She put a finger to his mouth.

"Shut up. I'm not going to die." He breathed a sigh of relief. "But there is something going on." She was afraid, he could tell by just one glance. Draco grabbed her hand and held it tightly.

"What is it? What can I do?" She took in a deep breath.

"I'm pregnant." The air seemed to rush out of his lungs; he couldn't breathe. For seconds he stood there, frozen, unable to think or speak. Tears rushed down Hermione's face. "Oh Draco, I'm so sorry. I never meant for this to happen. We were careful. I'm sorry. I understand if you don't want to deal with this-"

"Shut up." She glared. "I mean it, be quiet." He took a couple more seconds, and then his face broke out into a grin. He was no longer holding her hand, but holding all of her. Hermione's tears turned to joy and he laughed and shouted and hugged her. "I'm going to be a father." She smiled, despite the tears. He ran around the room, then out to the waiting area. "I'm going to be a father!" Hermione could hear the shouts of congratulations. He rushed back in and kissed her, gently but possessively.

"Draco." Her voice stopped his celebration.

"What's wrong? Is something wrong with the baby? I'm sure I could get the best healers around and…"

"Shut up. I'm scared." He leaned down and kissed away a tear.

"There's no need to be frightened. I'm not going to let anything happen to you or to her." He gently placed a hand on Hermione's stomach. With their bodies only connected in that one place, he looked into her eyes and whispered, "I love you."

The tears began to flow again. "Oh, Draco. I love you, too."

Arabella Grace Malfoy was the exact opposite of her brother. Her dark brown curls framed her heart shaped face and were the exact same shade as her eyes. There was not a mischievous bone in her body, she was full of life and laughter and love. She shone like a ray of sunshine, always moving, always bouncing. The simplest flower or the smallest insect fascinated her; her thirst for knowledge was unquenchable. She had her father's laugh, his nose, and his kindness, but she possessed her mother's spirit and capacity to love. Hermione and Draco spoiled her to no end, but her temperament remained pure.

She filled the hole.


End file.
